Reminiscing a Tragedy
by Dia
Summary: This can be considered a fic about the Malfoys, but in a alternate-universe. They say more deaths, murders, suicides, and homicides happen in December than any other month. This is something that may happen. Depressing and morbid.


-This is a depressing, Christmas fic with a message. I would appreciate for those of you who want to flame, not to   
flame something this meaningful to my person. I'll appreciate feedback.  
  
-Dia presents to you  
  
- Reminiscing a Tragedy  
  
-A figure walked down the dark hall, his black robes flowingly embracing his legs as he walked. His footsteps   
echoing throughout the vast manor, becoming the pulse of the depression that lay upon the household. Where  
laughter should ring happiness throughout the many halls, corridors, and rooms of the Manor, was replaced by  
the melancholy footsteps of it's Master.   
  
-The Master of the Manor on the uppermost hill may not weep, but he his dying inside his physical shell. He yearns  
for the orchestra that once played 'Ucranian Bell Carol' in his ballroom, he yearns for his wife's nagging about  
the color collaboration of the different hues of green and red, and he yearns for the youthful, innocent laughter of   
his son.  
  
-As the Master of the Manor walks through the dark corridors of his prison of mourning. He approaches the   
forsakened and dreaded ballroom. The ballroom with its high-domed ceiling decorated with the paintings of rosy-  
cheeked cherubs, picturisque clouds that dwell in the heavans, and the brims of the paintings made out of   
ornate plated gold. The Master reached the end of the corridor and walks on the white, marble floor. His footsteps  
make a more empty, hollow sound. As he paces on the costly, crimson carpet, his mind drifts off to a happier time  
that took place in this place of sadness.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
The same very man, the Master of the Manor, walked down the corridor which was lighted by cinnimon scented   
candles. His skin a different, more healthy hue of creamy white. He had a small smile tugging on his thin lips as he   
heard the laughter and the faint callings of 'Merry Christmas!'. As he reached the end of the corridor, his young  
son runs up to him with his red and green jester hat's bells ringing with each footstep. The Master of the Manor  
pretends not to see the small boy, and mock gasps in fright as his son attempted to catch him on surprise. The   
man reaches down to pluck the small boy up into his arms while the small boy giggled at his prank.  
  
-"Did I scare you Daddy?" the small boy inquires through his childish chortling, hugging a small present to his   
chest.  
  
-"Yes you did!" the Master of the Manor answers, tickling the boy, causing him to go through another fit of laughter.  
  
-"Daddy, do you know what I'm dressed up as?" the little child asks, indicating his green and red jester hat and  
elf shoes with bells on the tips.  
  
-"Hmmm, are you a jester in King Author's court?" the Master of the Manor plays his son's game, his smile  
spreading across his face.  
  
-"Noooo, guess again Daddy! You only have two more answers left!" the boy exclaimed, clapping his hands at   
the thought of his play.  
  
-" Well, what about a...spoiled little boy who wants his presents?" the Master joked, his smile becoming wider if it  
was physically possible.  
  
-"Mmmh, your close, but no you have to guess again! One more answer left!" the boy answered, a sparkle in   
his gray eyes.  
  
-"Well, what about an elf that needs to help his mother?" the Master inquires, causing the boy to chuckle.  
  
-"Ding, ding, ding! You're right! here's a present for you!" The boy chanted, thrusting the small box, wrapped in  
red tissue paper at the Master's chest. At this antic, the Master's chest exploded into a hearty laugh and he placed   
the little boy on the ground. The boy, his son, looked up at him with innocent, questioning eyes as the Master of the  
Manor fingered the wrapping paper and freed the white box from the paper. The Master looked down at his son.  
  
-"What do you think is in this box? chocolate? a toy? or something magical like a wand?" the Master asked his   
eager son.  
  
-"Just open it Daddy!" the Master's son shouted through his anxiousness.  
  
-"Allright, if you say so," the Master said opening the white box gingerly. The Master's eyes widened at the sight  
of a hand-sized crystal sculpture of a horse pulling a carrage. The Master lifted it up to the chandelier's light,   
displaying it to his son.  
  
-"This is a great present. One of the best I ever had been given. Thank you my son," the Master said placing the  
sculpture in its box. With the other hand he patted his son's soft, platinum blond hair.  
  
-"Really? You really liked it! That's great!!" the boy excliamed, clapping his hands in merriment. The Master   
awarded the boy with another smile. Then a shot rang out.  
  
-The orchestra paused their playing, the laughter grew silent, and the sobs of the Master's Mistress could be   
heard. All eyes gathered on a man in black, holding a Colt-45 in his gloved hand.  
  
-"Sorry to disrupt this happy occassion, but I want the money you promised me Silver Snake," the man in black  
announced and then he continued, "I'd think that your wife would appreciate it if you did give us the money," the  
man in black said, pointing his gun at the sobbing figure, holding a bullet wound.  
  
-The Master flinched at his old nickname and his shock quickly transformed into fierce hatred. " I gave you that   
damn, worthless money. Now get out of my home!" the Master shouted, clenching his fists in aggression.  
  
-" I don't think so, do I need to shoot your wife again to prove my point?" the man in black said snidely, a sadistic   
grin taking over his face. The Master's Mistress's sobs grew louder.  
  
-"No," the Master said dangerously, his eyes darkening in his distaste for this man. "I don't think you should  
be displaying such violence on this day of celebration, but I would make you pay for my wife's suffering."  
the Master said as he reached for his silver cane, which he left lying at the side of the banquet table. The Master   
raised the cane above his head and crashed it on the man in black's skull, cracking it in the process. Before the   
metal cane met the man's head another shot rang out that eve of Christmas. Instead of going through the Master's   
stomach like it was intended to , but it went into the Master's son's belly. The Master jerked around, to face the   
limp bodies of his loved ones, not paying mind of the bloody head of the man in black. The Master fell to his knees   
at his son's lax, bloody body, dropping a white box at his side.   
  
*************************************************************  
  
-The Master snapped out of his reverie, and walked to the stairway. Before he traveled up the stairs, the Master   
took another glance at the marble floor. Silver tears traveling down his cheeks, his face a deadly pale, and his  
mouth in a straight, firm line. The Master turned back to the stairway, toying with a crystal scuplture of a horse  
pulling a carrage. The Master left that accursed ballroom wishing for what was, but will never be again.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________________  
  
My lord, I depressed myself while writing this. This is one of the many tragedies that always seems to happen on  
Christams eve, or Christmas day. This could be the Malfoys, but in a different demention. I hoped you all enjoyed  
this.  
  
-Dia 


End file.
